CHAPTER NINETEEN
This time with Gordon had been heaven, Nessa mused as they sat in the taxi taking them to the Kansas City airport. They’d spent three days together. And for those three days she’d lived a life of enchantment and perfect happiness. Perfect romance. She and Gordon had been nearly inseparable. Every night he’d escorted her to her hotel room, kissed her good-night, then proceeded to his room, directly down the hall. It came to be a matter of much amusement that once he got to his room, he’d phone her. Habit, they decided, was hard to break.
In their time together, they’d laughed and talked and joked and kissed. If Nessa hadn’t already been in love with Gordon, these few days would have had her falling head over heels.
Unfortunately the days had flown past far too quickly, and now they had to return to their separate lives. Reluctantly, delaying as long as possible, they’d departed for the airport with only an hour to spare.
“You’re being unusually quiet,” Gordon said, her hand in his.
“You should treasure the silence,” Nessa joked. “It’s rare for me.”
“I treasure everything about you.”
Nessa forced a smile and swallowed around the lump in her throat. Glancing down, she said, “I never knew a man who said such beautiful things.”
Now it was his turn to look away. “Not since my wife died have I known anyone I wanted to say them to.”
They’d decided that first day not to make up their minds about what they felt for each other until they were both home again. If they were indeed in love, they needed clear heads to sort through their feelings. Any decision about their future had to take the realities of the present into account. Because they were older and had children and complete lives in different places, there was more to consider. A lot of people could be affected by their decision.
The entire time, Gordon hadn’t mentioned his son. Taking her cue from him, Nessa hadn’t talked about her children, either. More than once she wondered if they should have discussed their families; she knew very well that her children wouldn’t easily accept the idea of her marrying Gordon Pawling.
Sight unseen, and without even knowing his name, Sylvia had taken a dislike to Gordon. Nessa could only pray that Miles didn’t have any preconceived prejudices against her. Gordon had told her his son wanted him to remarry, and it was the same with her own children. But Nessa was beginning to suspect her children weren’t being entirely honest. They might have convinced themselves that remarriage was the best thing for their mother, but she doubted they’d thought it through. Bringing a man who wasn’t their father into the family was more upsetting than they’d expected, as their reactions to this situation seemed to prove.
The taxi pulled up to the departure area, and while Gordon paid the driver and dealt with the luggage, Nessa took care of the tickets. Since they were traveling on two different airlines and her flight left first, Gordon walked her to her gate.
They waited in the departure lounge, holding hands, neither of them inclined to speak.
“I’ll call you tonight,” he promised as the time neared for her flight.
“You can wait if you like,” Nessa said, knowing he’d be tired after the long trip. “Call me tomorrow, instead.”
“It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t call you this evening.”
It wouldn’t for Nessa, either….
“Leave a message on my answering machine as soon as you’re home to let me know you arrived safely,” he said. “I’ll check it as soon as I get in.”
“Okay.” The lump in her throat seemed to grow thicker as boarding for her flight was announced.
Gordon stiffened, and Nessa knew this because she stiffened, too, not wanting to leave him and knowing she must. More difficult would be doing it with a smile.
“I won’t board the plane until the very last minute,” she whispered.
His hand tightened around hers almost painfully. Then, as if he seemed to realize what he was doing, he relaxed his grip.
The passengers for the San Antonio flight formed a long straggling line. Not until the line had completely vanished did Nessa finally say, “I should go.”
Gordon nodded.
She picked up her carry-on and Gordon accompanied her to the attendant at the gate. Smiling was as impossible as she’d known it would be; she dared not look at him for fear he’d see the tears in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I had such a wonderful time. I’ll always remember these days with you.”
They hugged and Gordon kissed her. Knowing how he felt about public displays of affection, she was surprised.
“I realize we agreed to wait before we made a decision,” he said, easing her out of his arms, “but it isn’t necessary. Not on my end. I love you.”
“Oh, Gordon, I love you, too.”
“I didn’t plan to do it now, but I can’t let you go, not like this. Marry me, Nessa.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips in an effort to forestall the rush of tears. “Oh, Gordon.”
“Excuse me,” the airline clerk said, glancing toward the empty jetway, “are you on this flight?”
Nessa nodded, barely breaking eye contact with Gordon to answer the young man.
“You should board right away, ma’am,” he said politely.
“I will.” She reached for Gordon’s hand and clasped it tightly. The thought of leaving him now was unbearable.
“Marry me, Nessa,” Gordon pleaded a second time.
“Hurry up and say yes,” the young man urged.
“Yes,” Nessa said.
Gordon and Nessa clung to each other. “I love you,” he whispered again.
“I love you, too.”
“Is everyone on board?” A second clerk came out of the jetway.
“Not yet,” the other man answered.
“They’re ready to close the door,” the second man warned.
“Tell them to hold on. We’re in the middle of a marriage proposal here.” Not waiting for the other man to do it, he spoke into the intercom. “Hold the plane,” he said urgently. “We’ve got an engagement about to happen.”
“I’ll tell Miles tonight.”
“Wait,” Nessa advised. “Sleep on it.”
“I know what I want, and that’s to be with you for the rest of my life.”
And that was exactly what she wanted, too.
Gordon kissed her one last time, and the young man who’d become her guardian angel gripped Nessa’s elbow and hurried her into the jetway. “Are you going to marry him?” he asked just as she boarded the plane.
“Yes.” Nessa had no hesitation in her voice.
“Great. Now make sure I get an invitation to the wedding.”
“I will,” she promised. But when she located her seat, she realized she hadn’t gotten his name.
The happiness that filled her lasted the entire flight. She didn’t know exactly when the lump in her throat had disappeared, but she guessed it was shortly after Gordon’s proposal. She felt giddy with love and so damn happy it was all she could do to sit still.
The flight landed in San Antonio, and Nessa was scheduled to take the shuttle bus to Promise, a ride that took nearly ninety minutes. It was dark by the time the Boeing 737 touched down. Nessa didn’t relish the long trip home, but nothing could destroy this wonderful feeling inside her.
Almost nothing, she revised as she reached the baggage-claim area in the San Antonio terminal—and saw her daughter, glaring at her.
“Welcome home, Mother,” Sylvia said in a cold uninflected voice. As if Nessa were some disobedient schoolgirl who’d been caught skipping classes.
“Sylvia! What are you doing here?”
Her daughter didn’t answer. “Just where were you?” she demanded, instead.
“Kansas City.” The flight information should have told her that. Or was she testing her mother, hoping to catch her in a lie?
“With who?”
“With whom,” Nessa corrected.
“And don’t try to tell me you were at a bridge tournament.”
Nessa giggled. She didn’t play bridge, and Sylvia knew it.
“This is no laughing matter,” Sylvia said once they’d retrieved Nessa’s bag and were on their way to the parking lot. “You were with a man, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Nessa admitted.
That seemed to be more than Sylvia could bear. She stopped in midstep and cast Nessa a horrified look.
“You needn’t worry,” Nessa assured her daughter. “We had separate rooms.”
* * *
“Excuse me, are you Jeannie French?”
Jeannie, who was volunteering at the library, was through for the day. She glanced up from the picnic table in the park to find an attractive woman dressed in a green silk pantsuit and high heels. “I’m Val Langley, and Travis Grant suggested I talk to you.”
Jeannie closed the book she’d been reading and set her half-eaten apple aside. The day was warm but not humid, a pleasant late-July afternoon, and she’d wanted to spend her free time sitting in the sun, enjoying her novel. Later she’d be meeting Adam at the theater—and the anticipation added a touch of excitement to her day. Adam had phoned earlier in the week and asked her to the movies. After their dinner date, they’d been out twice—bowling and on a picnic—but they were still uneasy with each other. Adam often waited several days between dates to call her again, as if he feared she’d change her mind about him. They were taking this slow, and in truth Jeannie didn’t mind. As long as he didn’t wait too long between calls.
“How can I help you, Ms. Langley?” she asked.
“Please, call me Val. Apparently you’re familiar with the history of the area?” Val made the statement a question.
Jeannie was stunned that Travis would send someone to her, seeing that he knew more about local history than anyone around here. “I know a little bit,” she said warily.
“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
“Not at all.” As the woman sat carefully on the bench, first brushing it off, Jeannie couldn’t help wondering about her. She remembered hearing that Nell and Travis had a female houseguest and vaguely recalled that she was related to Travis somehow. His sister, possibly. Jeannie was flattered that Travis had thought she could answer Val’s questions.
“You’ve been to Bitter End?” Val asked.
“Once,” Jeannie told her. “I’ve only lived in Promise a year.” She explained she was a first-grade teacher and that she had a long-standing passion for Texan history.
“I was out at Bitter End myself this morning,” Val said.
Jeannie suspected she hadn’t been wearing her high heels then, and when the woman didn’t elaborate, she wondered what Val had thought of the ghost town. “What brings you to Promise?” she asked.
“This is a vacation of sorts. I’m an attorney and I’m trying to help a friend. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Richard Weston, have you?”
“Is he related to Grady and Caroline?”
“Grady’s brother. He has a sister, too.”
“That would be Savannah Smith.”
“Yes,” Val said. “But I haven’t managed to speak to either one.” She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re willing to talk to me, especially as no one else seems to be.”
Jeannie couldn’t understand why and said so.
“It’s all rather complicated,” Val said, folding her hands on her crossed knees. “You see, Richard’s in a New York prison. He’d been charged with…various crimes and made the mistake of running from the law. He came back here, and for a while he hid out at Bitter End.”
“Really?” Jeannie’s interest rose. She’d heard the occasional vague remark about Richard Weston, but little else. It was as if the entire town had decided to pretend he’d never existed. “For how long?”
“A few weeks. It’s apparently because of Richard that the old hotel is boarded up. The staircase collapsed on him, and he was badly injured. From what I was told, it’s a miracle he survived.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” Jeannie said, “but what does any of that have to do with you?”
“I’m a friend, as I said. I’m also the attorney appealing Richard’s conviction. I hope to file soon after I get back to New York.”
“Oh.”
“The prosecution made at least one legal error that I’ve been able to use in forming a case for an appeal. This often happens when a number of defendants are charged with the same crime. My belief is that Richard Weston played a relatively minor role in what happened, but received most of the blame.”
“Well, then, I hope you can help him.”
“I do, too,” Val said, “since I’m investing my own time and money in this. I want to see Richard released as soon as possible.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“I want justice to be served. But even if the appeal is denied, Richard could appear before the parole board in as little as two years,” Val continued. “He could get out early for good behavior. Another factor is overcrowding in the prisons. In any event, when he does go before the board, he’ll need the support of his family.”
“Savannah and Grady are wonderful people,” Jeannie offered without reservation. She’d met both of them quite a few times and couldn’t imagine that they wouldn’t be willing to help their brother in any way possible.
Val brightened considerably. “The situation with Richard Weston is unfortunate, but I’m doing everything I can to see that he’s vindicated.”
“It must give you a wonderful sense of pride and accomplishment to work on a case like this and see real justice done.” Jeannie frowned. “I mean, if he’s been treated unfairly…”
“It’s very rewarding,” Val was quick to tell her. “Anyway, part of the reason I’m here is that Richard asked me to personally check on the ghost town. He’s afraid the historic value of the place might have been destroyed since his incarceration. He’ll be pleased to hear that the town’s basically been left intact.”
“I’m sure he will be.”
They chatted for nearly an hour. Val gave her a little more background on Richard, and Jeannie told her everything she’d learned about Bitter End, as well as a few other stories, including the ones she’d shared with Nell and Travis.
By then, it was time to prepare for her date with Adam. Jeannie and Val parted company, with Jeannie warmly wishing the attorney good luck in her efforts.
* * *
“You’ll never guess who I talked to this afternoon,” she told Adam as they walked into the theater fifteen minutes before showtime.
He grinned. “You’re right, I’ll never guess.” They sat in a middle row, and he tipped the popcorn in her direction.
Jeannie helped herself to a handful. “Val Langley.”
“What did she want?” Adam asked flatly.
“She’s the attorney—”
“I know who she is.”
Jeannie was surprised by the coolness of his tone. She liked Val and admired her dedication to her client. Val’s big-city sophistication impressed her, too.
“She’s working on an appeal for Richard Weston and had some questions.”
“An appeal? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk with her again.”
“Why not?”
“Richard Weston hurt this community.”
“I know. But Val told me he regrets what happened and wants to make it up to everyone. Actually, I think she might be a little sweet on him.”
Adam frowned darkly. “Richard Weston’s bad news.”
“Val doesn’t think so.” She didn’t mean to be argumentative, but his attitude irritated her.
“You like Val?” The way he said it insinuated she shouldn’t.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“A word of friendly advice, Jeannie. It’d be better if you didn’t give her any more information about this town or the Westons.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this.” She crossed her arms stubbornly. “Val is an intelligent woman and a successful attorney, and she’s taken on Richard’s cause.”
“You weren’t here. You don’t know what he did.”
“You weren’t here, either,” she said.
“I’m not going to argue with you about Richard Weston,” Adam replied, and it was as though he’d closed a door in her face. He turned his eyes to the screen, which was still dark, and refused to look at her.
“It’s too late,” Jeannie said with a hint of sarcasm. “We’re already arguing.”
“I think you should stay away from Val.”
“She’s my friend.”
“A piss-poor choice, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” Arms still crossed, Jeannie glared at the screen. Perhaps Adam wasn’t the man she’d believed him to be. Val was trying to help Richard Weston. Jeannie thought Adam would be interested in seeing justice done. Obviously he wasn’t.
* * *
“I still don’t understand how you knew I was with Gordon,” Nessa said as she poured Sylvia and herself a cup of tea. The drive from the airport to Promise had been an uncomfortable one. She’d said little to Sylvia, beyond telling her who Gordon was—a widower and retired judge from Toronto. Her daughter’s attitude practically implied that Nessa deserved to wear a scarlet letter. Maybe F for fool, since A for adulteress hardly applied.
Her love life was her own business, and she had no intention of discussing it with her daughter. Nor did she feel she owed Sylvia any explanations. As far as she could figure, when Sylvia hadn’t been able to reach her, she’d called Dovie who’d divulged her whereabouts—although not, apparently, Gordon’s name. Nessa hadn’t asked Dovie to keep her trip a secret, but she certainly hadn’t expected this kind of reaction to a three-day absence.
“How well do you know this man, Mother?” Sylvia asked, picking up the delicate china cup. “This Gordon Pawling from Canada?”
The distaste in her voice angered Nessa. “Well enough to marry him,” she snapped. She realized she hadn’t called yet to leave him a message; she’d do that as soon as Sylvia left.
“Marry him!” Sylvia’s cup hit the saucer with a clang, spilling tea; Nessa was amazed it hadn’t shattered. “You’re…” Speechless, Sylvia stared at her.
“Engaged,” Nessa supplied.
“To a Canadian?”
Nessa nearly laughed out loud. Sylvia made it sound as if she’d agreed to marry a man from another planet. “Yes, a Canadian,” she returned evenly. Nothing could destroy this joy that had been with her since Gordon’s proposal.
“Did you have him checked out?”
“Gordon?” Nessa asked. “Checked out? Whatever for?”
“He could be after your money, Mother.” Sylvia seemed to think that should be obvious. Nessa was reasonably well off, with enough retirement money to live comfortably but by no means extravagantly.
“He’s not after my money,” Nessa said.
“You don’t know that.”
Sylvia could call her a fool if she wanted, but Nessa knew Gordon wasn’t interested in her small stock portfolio. “I understand your concern, sweetie, but—”
“Where will you live?”
“Ah…” Nessa didn’t know what to say. There hadn’t been time to discuss any of those details. All they’d decided was that they loved each other and wanted to be together.
“Have you ever spent a winter in Toronto?” Sylvia asked aggressively.
“No, but it can’t be any colder than the winter I spent with your father in Prudhoe Bay.”
One look told Nessa her daughter didn’t appreciate the comment.
“You’re so in love with this man…”
* * *
“You aren’t thinking straight.” Miles continued his tirade until it was all Gordon could do to restrain his temper.
“If you’d listen—”
“To what?” Miles challenged. “You know next to nothing about her.”
“I know everything that’s necessary.”
Miles began pacing the library. “I expected much better from you.”
“Better? You’ve never met Nessa. When you do, you’ll see what a wonderful woman she is.”
“You might have let me know you were leaving for Kansas City!”
Gordon was guilty as charged, but he knew that if he’d discussed the trip with Miles, his son would’ve tried to talk him out of going. And now that he’d had this time with Nessa, now that he knew his heart, Gordon was willing to do whatever it took to marry her. Even if it meant standing up to his own son.
“I don’t need your permission, Miles.”
His son glared at him. “Are you saying you’d marry this…this gold digger, no matter what I think?”
Just off the plane, Gordon was tired and emotionally drained. The last thing he wanted was an argument with his only child. “Miles, listen.”
“I had her checked out.”
“You what?”
Miles’s shoulders went back. “I hired a private detective.”
Gordon couldn’t believe it. How dared Miles presume he had the right to interfere like this? What he’d done was insulting. Intolerable.
“Don’t you want to know what he found out?” Miles asked as though he’d uncovered enough dirt to take the case to the Grand Jury.
“Absolutely not.” Gordon was outraged and prayed Nessa would never learn what Miles had done. He pounded his fist on the top of his desk. “I think it’d be best if you left now.”
Miles’s jaw sagged open. “You’re kicking me out of the home where I was born and raised?”
Gordon didn’t reply.
Miles grabbed his umbrella and headed out of the library. When he reached the door, he turned back. “Well, I guess it’s true what they say—there’s no fool like an old fool.”
“Thank you for those words of infinite wisdom,” Gordon muttered.
Miles shook his head, then rushed out, making sure the front door slammed in his wake.
Sitting down, Gordon drew in a deep breath to slow his racing heart. Not since Miles was a teenager had they argued like this. On most issues they were in full agreement. Gordon hoped Nessa hadn’t been subjected to the same kind of inquisition from her children. Only a few hours earlier they’d been in each other’s arms. He could still see the tears of happiness shining in her eyes when she’d whispered her love. The memory was enough to calm him.
Upon his return from the airport there’d been no message from Nessa, which concerned him. He punched in her phone number.
“Hello?” a woman answered. One who sounded almost like Nessa. “Who is this?”
“Gordon Pawling,” Gordon said, certain he must be speaking to Sylvia. “Is Nessa available?”
“No,” came the curt reply. “And she won’t be for a long time.” Sylvia lowered her voice. “I want you to know I found out about the inquiries you made into my mother’s financial affairs.”
Gordon groaned inwardly. He was about to explain that the private detective had been his son’s doing and not his, but he wasn’t allowed to finish.
“You can forget about marrying my mother, Mr. Pawling. Neither my brothers nor I will allow it.”
With that, she slammed down the phone and Gordon heard nothing more—except the irritating buzz of a disconnected line.
* * *
Grady Weston walked from the barn toward the main house. He’d put in a long day repairing a windmill that supplied a watering hole for his cattle. Knowing he’d be able to spend the night relaxing with his wife and family made up for all the hard work and the worries that accompanied a rancher’s life. For years he’d worked with no end in sight, no purpose, beyond simply surviving and holding on to the Yellow Rose Ranch. Caroline had added a missing dimension to his life, and his marriage was— His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he noticed a sheriff’s department car parked in the yard. Frank Hennessey had been a family friend for many years, and Grady was sorry not to see him as often since he’d retired. He liked Adam Jordan, but because Adam had been away from Promise for more than a decade, he wasn’t well acquainted with him yet.
Grady continued toward the house and Caroline met him at the back porch. “Sheriff Jordan’s here.”
“I saw the car. Is there trouble?”
Caroline’s gaze held his. “I don’t know. He wants to talk to you.”
“About what?” Grady was a man who didn’t take kindly to surprises.
“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling this has to do with Richard.”
Grady closed his eyes. Would he never escape his brother’s reach?
“I’ll bring you a glass of iced tea,” Caroline told him, and then before he could turn away, she stopped him. “I love you, Grady,” she whispered, easing her arms around his neck and bringing her mouth to his. He didn’t know what had prompted the kiss, not that he objected. The eagerness of her embrace was an unexpected pleasure.
Wrapping his arms about his wife’s waist, he lifted her from the ground and swung her up. It felt damn good to hold Caroline. Every day he thanked God he had her in his life—her and Maggie and Roy. And now this baby to come….
“Howdy, Sheriff,” he said, joining Adam Jordan a few minutes later. Adam waited for him on the front porch, which overlooked the rolling green pasture. A row of pecan trees, a recent addition, edged this side of the property.
“Grady.” Adam stood and the two men shook hands.
“Anything I can do for you?” Grady asked as they lowered themselves into the white wicker chairs. The very ones his parents used to sit in almost every night.
“Has Travis mentioned that Val Langley’s in town?”
The name was oddly familiar, but Grady couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. “He might have, but if so, I don’t recall.” Val Langley. Val Langley. He just couldn’t place it.
“She’s his ex-wife.”
Grady nodded. But he knew there was some other reason for this sense of familiarity.
“She also defended Richard against charges in New York three years ago,” Adam said.
So that was why the name rang a bell. Because of her connection with Richard. Without so much as meeting the woman, Grady instantly distrusted her. He didn’t allow himself to like or trust anyone connected with his brother. “What’s she doing in Promise?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
Grady frowned. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I did.”
“I don’t mean to be blunt, but I read your brother’s file and—”
“You don’t need to worry about sparing my feelings. There’s no love lost between Richard and me.”
“I just found out that Ms. Langley’s filing an appeal on his behalf.”
Grady shrugged. He was no legal expert, but he’d talked to the prosecuting attorney by phone several times during the trial. The evidence against Richard and his accomplices had been overwhelming. “More power to her, but I doubt it’ll do much good.”
Adam nodded. “I hope you’re right.” He stared out over the pasture. “I don’t mean to pry, but have you heard from your brother recently?”
Grady nodded. “For the first time in three years. He claims he’s a changed man and wants our forgiveness.”
“Do you believe him?”
Grady snorted. “About as much as I believe pigs fly.”
A brief smile touched Adam’s mouth. “Were you aware that your brother might be eligible for parole in less than two years?”
“You’re kidding, right?” His brother had been sentenced to twenty-five years, and he deserved every second of that time, in Grady’s opinion. Aside from everything he’d done to his family and the people of Promise, he’d committed unforgivable crimes against poor people—illegal immigrants he and his accomplices had lured into the U.S. and then exploited. The men had been forced into criminal activities and the women into prostitution. Several had died under suspicious circumstances. Murder was never proved, but Grady could no longer be sure that his brother was incapable of such a crime. And now he was being told that despite all the pain he’d inflicted, Richard might end up serving only five years? It wasn’t right.
“Apparently, because of overcrowding and other factors, it’s quite likely that he could come before the parole board within the next couple of years.”
Grady shook his head in disgust.
“He also appears to be concerned about what’s happened to Bitter End. Ms. Langley said he was afraid Promise would use it to attract tourists.”
“I hate to play dumb here, Sheriff,” Grady said, “but the only person my brother’s ever cared about is himself. If he’s interested in the ghost town, then it’s for his own selfish reasons.”
“Do you know what those reasons might be?”
Grady shook his head again. “I don’t have a clue.”
The sheriff left shortly afterward. Caroline stepped onto the porch beside her husband as the patrol car headed out of the driveway.
“You were right,” Grady said, slipping his arm around her waist.
“Richard?”
Grady nodded grimly. “He could be up for parole in as little as two years.”
“Two years?” Caroline sounded as incredulous as he’d been.
“Not only that, he has an attorney working on an appeal.”
“Val Langley? Nell mentioned she was visiting, but I didn’t realize that had anything to do with Richard.”
Grady had forgotten that the women of Promise had a news network more effective than any spy ring.
“She’s been going around town asking a lot of questions,” Caroline informed him.
“I hope she got an earful—especially if she asked about Richard.”
“Don’t worry.” Caroline laughed. “I doubt she learned a thing. People prefer not to discuss him.”
“Did you hear about his supposedly deep concern for Bitter End?” The sarcasm in his voice was unavoidable.
Caroline stared at him. “Richard’s concerned about Bitter End?”
“That’s the word.”
“But why?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Could he have left something behind?”
“Like what? We found where he’d been sleeping and the things he’d stolen. He didn’t have anything all that valuable.”
“Mommy, Daddy.” Maggie dashed onto the porch with three-year-old Roy tagging behind. “When’s dinner?” Maggie asked.
“Just as soon as you wash your hands.”
“You, too,” Grady told his son, and then with his arm about his wife, walked back into the house that was his home.